


Mellow

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Crafts, Father/Son Incest, Feanorian OT8, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, POV Multiple, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet afternoon, the Fëanorian way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mellow

**Author's Note:**

> Maitimo/Nelyo = Maedhros  
> Macalaurë/Cáno = Maglor  
> Tyelcormo/Turco = Celegorm  
> Carnistir/Moryo = Caranthir  
> Curufinwë/Curvo = Curufin  
> Pityafinwë/Pityo = Amrod  
> Telufinwë/Telvo = Amras

“Telvo, please come here and help us,” Carnistir whined the moment his youngest brother appeared in the doorway. 

Telufinwë stopped on the threshold, a little surprised. He hadn't noticed his father and brothers had all gathered in Maitimo's bedroom while he worked outside, in the garden. He let his gaze flicker over each one of them, then walked over to the farthest wall and set the flower vase he carried on the chest of drawers which stood against it. He paused to rearrange the freshly cut fire dahlias – the first to bloom – which he had planted specifically for Maitimo. Satisfied with the way they fanned out inside the vase, he turned and retraced his steps to the rug Carnistir and Curufin were sitting on, at the foot of the bed, with a wavy mass of wool between them.

“A blanket,” he said with no enthusiasm whatsoever, sounding in fact rather resigned.

Carnistir nodded, looking up at him with imploring eyes. 

Telufinwë sighed. “...don't tell me it's for that shepherd you befriended during our latest trip?”

“Yes, it's a present for Astarwë...since he's coming all the way to the market next week, I thought I'd give it to him then.” 

Telufinwë sat down cross-legged next to his brothers. Carnistir promptly passed him a large tapestry needle, but he set it beside him on the rug and lifted the portion of the blanket closest to him, looking for an edge. When he finally found it and flipped it over, he was faced with a shower of ends of at least a dozen colours dangling from it. “...this is...unbelievable.”

“No, it isn't...it's just a regular patchwork blanket.”

“There must be a thousand joins! You should use less colours.”

“Astarwë likes colourful things.”

Telufinwë's eyes narrowed. “Did you think of weaving in some of the ends as you went?”

“I did!” Carnistir protested, and went on to show Telufinwë that the outer rows of the squares were in fact all end-less. 

Curufinwë listened to his brothers' banter with a smile, patiently slipping his needle under tight clusters of stitches, making sure the ends were securely hidden. “Well, the colours are pretty...” he put in, “perhaps combine them in a way which requires less cutting and joining when you want to do something this big?”

“Exactly,” Telufinwë concurred. “Why would you go to so much trouble for this guy anyway?”

“I like him.” 

Telufinwë, once again, frowned slightly, and pressed his lips together, as if in grave deliberation. “If you fuck him I want to fuck him too,” he said at last, with a tinge of possessiveness he couldn't help wherever his brothers and father were concerned.

Carnistir looked offended. “I don't intend to fuck him. Ever.”

“You could take him into your service,” Curufinwë suggested.

“...that's a good idea, actually,” Fëanáro said from the bed, pausing momentarily in his exertion to satisfy Tyelcormo's sudden need to be fucked. “You could settle him in the house in the hills, so you can have him closer.”

“I'll think about it,” Carnistir said briskly, to put the matter to rest. He stooped over Telufinwë's crossed legs to retrieve the needle, and handed it to him again. “So, will you help us? 

Telufinwë once again ignored the needle and glanced up. He only saw his twin's back and legs from where he sat, but he had had a gotten a nice view of his current occupation from the door. “Let's say I'd rather do what Pityo's doing...but I'll help you in return for your ass.”

Carnistir made a face, blushing slightly. 

“Joking. A kiss is enough,” Telufinwë snickered, and leaned in to drop a wet kiss to his cheek. 

“I'm sure Pityo and Cáno would appreciate it if you joined them,” Maitimo said, raising his head from his book to peer at his youngest brother, then at the flowers, with their red and orange and yellow petals, three of them large enough to crown the vase in fire-like hues. 

“Later maybe.” Telufinwë finally picked up the needle, and slipped one of the ends through the eyelet.

Maitimo tried to return his attention to the book, and failed. He uncrossed his legs, stretched them, and crossed them again, slightly shifting the weight of Tyelcormo's head on his lap. He contemplated his brother's face, flushed and blissfully distorted by the umpteenth moan as their father vigorously thrust into him. Maitimo smiled at him and lovingly stroked his right cheek with the back of his hand.

It had been only Carnistir, Curufinwë and their father weaving in the ends to Carnistir's blanket in his bedroom at first, while he read one of Ingwë's impossibly dull paeans in honour of Manwë. Then Tyelcormo had come back from a walk in the public orchards sooner than expected, horny and frisky as a male goat in heat, and had started rubbing himself against their father and pestering him until Fëanáro had been forced to give up his task, much to Carnistir's dismay, and fuck him as he demanded. Macalaurë and Pityafinwë had joined some time later, and were now cuddling and fondling each other half-naked to Maitimo's left. 

It was all in all a quasi-perfect afternoon, one of the rarest ones, when they were alone in the house and seemed to have all the tranquillity and contentment of the world to themselves. And it was definitely less tiresome to trudge through Ingwë's writing with his father and brother there next to him. Maitimo turned the page, and lifted the slim book. He was still only at the middle of it. He frowned, and forced himself to read one more line.

Macalaurë propped himself up, trying to peek into the book, but 'stop reading -' was all he managed to say before Pityafinwë pushed him back down to latch onto his left nipple with his mouth.

Maitimo shook his head. “You know I can't. I have to take part in the public discussion at the Palace the day after tomorrow.” 

“You should just decline to appear at such events.”

“I can't claim to be too occupied with...'rehearsals' every single time.”

“I suppose not. But you _could_ claim to be occupied with your unruly younger brothers,” Macalaurë teased, his words trailing into a hiss as Pityafinwë intensified the suction on his nipple.

“At least Ingwë's language is impressive, usually...from a purely musical perspective that is,” said Curufinwë, but his voice was almost drowned by Carnistir grumbling gruffly about yarn ends mysteriously multiplying while they were being woven in.

Tyelcormo groaned aloud too, though for an entirely different reason. “I don't want to hear Ingwë's name while I'm being fucked.” 

Fëanáro grinned down at him, slamming into him with a forceful thrust that sheathed him completely inside Tyelcormo's welcoming ass. He shifted his feet on the sheep-skin rug that covered the floor, barely moving inside his son's passage at the same time. He readjusted his grip on the leg he hugged to his chest and licked the side of Tyelcormo's knee, causing Tyelcormo to squirm, thus increasing the friction inside his ass, if not by much. Fëanáro's mouth proceeded lower, raining nips and kisses to the muscled thigh.

Tyelcormo writhed around his father's shaft, pushing on his right leg in a clumsy attempt to raise his hips and fuck himself on it. “Dad –” 

Fëanáro took the skin just above his knee between his teeth and pulled, while also pulling almost all the way out. He held his tip just inside Tyelcormo's opening for a few moments, and slammed in again. Tyelcormo's body rocked back on the bed, his shoulders digging into Maitimo's thigh. 

“We can't disturb your brothers...too much,” Fëanáro said, giving a light slap to Tyelcormo's twitching cock. He quickly lowered the same hand between Tyelcormo's legs, and started rubbing his thumb back and forth just beneath his sack, and further down to where they were joined. The caress had the desired effect of preventing any further protest. Tyelcormo clenched around him for a moment, huffed and rolled his head from side to side on Maitimo's thighs, pulling on his own hair, which was mostly trapped under his naked body.

Maitimo giggled softly and his free hand made its way down Tyelcormo's chin to his exposed neck, and by pinches and pets over his collarbones and to his right nipple.

With that, it didn't take Tyelcormo much longer to reach release, the second already that afternoon, even without direct stimulation to his cock. He arched off the bed, thrusting himself onto his father's cock, and his come sprayed half on his hip and half on the crumpled coverlet at his left. 

Fëanáro reverently took in every detail of Tyelcormo's rapt expression then, held his hooded – yet ardent – gaze throughout his orgasm. Tyelcormo's body held him in a velvety grip, and he let the increased pressure and the joy bring him to orgasm too, filling his son with his own seed. 

“Satisfied?” he asked in a throaty gasp, giving a couple tugs to Tyelcormo's cock, though Tyelcormo had already spent himself in full.

Tyelcormo's whitish-grey eyes regained their sparkle, fixed on him, and Fëanáro grasped their plea. “My impetuous, darling Turco...have you perchance smelled any love-plants?”

“I have not, I swear it!” Tyelcormo denied, oblivious in his overexcited state to the fact that there were no such plants in the public orchards or in any garden in Tirion.

“He's just a spoilt brat,” Curufinwë muttered from the carpet.

“Am not!”

“Well, be it as it may, I need some rest now.”

Tyelcormo would have protested, but was distracted by a dull thud as Maitimo slammed the book shut. He turned to his oldest brother expectantly. 

“I'll take over for a while,” Maitimo said. He grabbed a pillow from behind himself and slipped it beneath Tyelcormo's head in place of his legs. 

Fëanáro slowly withdrew from Tyelcormo, his cockhead popping out of him with a loud wet sound thanks to Tyelcormo's attempt to keep him in by clenching his ass. Fëanáro tucked his cock back inside his pants and kissed Maitimo on the mouth as his firstborn took his place between Tyelcormo's legs. He in turn sat on the bed, in the spot left vacant by Maitimo. He looked on as Tyelcormo reached for his brother's still mostly soft cock and proceeded to stroke it with both hands, as he had done with Fëanáro's own not too long before. 

Smiling, Fëanáro took the book and flipped idly through it. “Shall I read the paean out loud while -”

There was a unanimous 'no!'. Pityafinwë, raising his head from Macalaurë's chest, snatched the book from his father's hands and threw it out of the open window for good measure. 

“Pityo!” Telufinwë exclaimed, his eyes darting to the window as a loud crunching sound was heard from outside. “If you've hit any of my flowers I swear I'll spank you with that damned book until your ass is as red as Moryo's face!”

Pityafinwë scoffed loudly, then smiled, staring mischievously into Macalaurë's eyes then into his father's. “That might be its only good use,” he said, before closing his lips around Macalaurë's left nipple again, feeling his older brother's chest ripple with suppressed laughter, and his father's hand glide gently down his back.


End file.
